


Tarth in Midwinter

by Ashesintheair



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-16 01:13:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2250363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashesintheair/pseuds/Ashesintheair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young Brienne endures a gift giving ceremony in Midwinter and wonders if anyone really knows her at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tarth in Midwinter

There had been dancing and music, but the hall grew quiet again. It was a festival for the Seven and it was time for gift giving.  
Brienne was too young for anyone to be much interested in dancing with her, which was just as well considering how her dancing lessons had worked out.She sat quietly at the table, picking over some food and trying to pretend that she didn’t stick out.

She graciously accepted a few gifts from her father’s latest woman. She seemed a nice lady, though Brienne didn’t speak much to her. She wondered if this one would stay with her father. She certainly seemed keen to win over his child - if the gifts were any way to judge the matter.

There were two dresses - silks of bright jewel colours that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the King’s court. They must have cost her dearly. It cost Brienne nearly as much to keep a polite face and thank her most recent would-be step-mother. It was wooden, and she could not bring herself to pretend enthusiasm. It was too much of a lie, but she could be polite.

One of her father’s bannermen presented her with a high harp and she went through the same routine of polite thanks with a voice that sounded as though it had been cast in lead. She plucked a string idly. It sounded and rang out like a bell. It was a strong instrument and her fingers were not too thick to pluck it, but she was awkward enough to likely break it. And she had never had an interest in music.

She endured the pain of further gifts, meant to please her, and wondered what was wrong with her that she could find no joy in any of the things that people wanted her so badly to like. _You don’t know me. I lived here among you since I was born and you don’t even know me. One book of adventures. One set of riding boots. Anything, anything to show me that you have seen me and noticed me and know a little of who I am._

She lifted her face at last to her father, trying to bury the misery deep. At least she could play the part of the dutiful daughter well for this one evening. She forced a smile onto her plain face but still she couldn’t stomach the lie of it and it slipped slowly away, no matter how she tried to cling on to it.

Her father smiled though, smiled warmly and opened his arms. She was already too big to comfortably sit on his knee, but she went anyway and he held her close. “Brienne, little Brienne.”

She wanted to laugh. She hadn’t been little for a long while, but it looked as though he might never stop calling her that.

"I have a gift for you."

He pushed her back to her feet and walked out of the hall for a moment. She almost couldn’t bear to look when he came back. She heard the bark before she saw looked. There was a hound on a leash, trotting at her father’s heels.

"A dog?"

"A hunting dog. You could use some company when you go riding," he said gently. Even as one hand offered her the leash, the other came up with something she had never expected.

"I’m told that you do passing well with a tourney sword. Perhaps it is past time you had a proper blade to practise with."

He held the sword out to her. It was a short blade, not much to look at, but it was a real sword. Real and whole and hers. There was one person who knew her, knew her down to the blood and the bone. She smiled though her eyes misted and took the hilt from her father.

"Thank you." She tried to put everything into those two words - so much more than a polite response. She put her heart and soul into it, every feeling she’d ever had of being lonely, every time she hadn’t been the daughter that he would have wished for, and tried to convey how much this one gift meant. _I will become a knight worthy of House Tarth._


End file.
